Jack looked up from the act of pouring a brandy. He smiled broadly at the sight of Tobias and Anthony in the doorway. The expression twisted the long scar that ran from mouth to ear into a ghastly death’s head grin.
“Right on time, I see, March. As usual.” Jack squinted at Anthony with great interest. “And who’s this you’ve brought with you?”
“My brother-in-law, Anthony Sinclair.” Tobias shut the door. “You’ve heard me speak of him. I’m in the way of teaching him the business.”
“A pleasure to meet you at last, young Sinclair.” Jack chuckled. “Going into the same trade, are ye?”
“Yes, sir,” Anthony said proudly.
Jack nodded. “I like to see a business stay in the family. And you’ll not find a more skilled instructor in the art of investigatin’ than March here. Never knew anyone better at prying into other folks’ secrets. The fact that he hasn’t had his throat slit for his efforts in all these years is proof that he’s got a talent for the profession, if ye ask me.”
“Thank you for the excellent references,” Tobias muttered. “If you don’t mind I’d like to move on to a more pressing topic. I received your message this afternoon. What is it you have to tell me about Nightingale?”
“I will explain in due time. But first sit down and let me pour you both a brandy.”
Tobias took one of the unyielding straight-back chairs near the hearth. He reversed it, as was his custom, and sat astride. Anthony watched him and then quickly went through the same routine with the other chair. He folded his arms along the back, just as Tobias did, and took the glass of brandy Smiling Jack handed to him.
“I’ll admit that I’ve not had a lot of contact with Mr. Nightingale.” Smiling Jack went behind his broad desk and lowered his massive bulk into the oversize chair. “He trades in stolen antiquities, jewelry, and art. Only the finest and most valuable items. Boasts a very exclusive clientele, I’m told. An altogether higher class of business than my own humble line, I fear.”
“Nonsense.” Tobias sipped the brandy. “In my opinion there is not a great deal of difference between smuggling and tavern-keeping and the trade in stolen antiquities and art. And I’ll match you against Nightingale any day when it comes to exclusive clientele.”
Smiling Jack chuckled. “I appreciate your kind remarks, my friend. Now, then, as to Nightingale, he specializes in handling transactions between clients who prefer not to meet face-to-face for various reasons. He sets up auctions and sales for such persons.”
Anthony frowned. “How does an illegal auction work?”
Smiling Jack settled into his chair and assumed a lecturing air. “Nightingale acts as a go-between for his clients. He notifies interested parties of the item that is on the block and solicits bids. He guarantees anonymity to all concerned. Takes a plump commission and appears to manage a decent livelihood.”
Tobias drummed his fingers on the wood chair back, thinking. “Does he ever commission thefts?”
Jack rested one hand on his large belly and pondered that. “I cannot say. But I certainly wouldn’t put it past him to take advantage of an opportunity if there was enough blunt in it.”
“You mentioned his exclusive clientele,” Tobias said. “Do you know the names of any who have done business with him?”
“No. As I said, part of what they pay for is a guarantee of absolute discretion. Nightingale provides it. His stock-in-trade is his reputation, after all. He is very careful to preserve it.”
Tobias thought of the words Lavinia had printed on her business cards: Discretion Assured. “It seems that my associate, Mrs. Lake, is not the only one who attempts to lure the more exclusive sort with a promise of discretion.”
Jack raised his beefy shoulders in a great shrug. “The proprietor of a business must do what he or she can to ensure a profit. Now, then, as you requested, I sent word to Nightingale that you wished to meet with him. He responded with such speed that I think it is safe to say he is as eager to discuss this business of the missing antiquity as you are yourself.”
“When and where?”
“I’m afraid that will be up to Nightingale. You need not concern yourself with locating him. He will find you.”
“I do not have a lot of time to waste.”
Jack grimaced. “I got the impression that you will see him soon. Very soon.”
Tobias took another swallow of brandy and lowered the glass. “What else can you tell me about Nightingale? Can you describe him?”
“We’ve met on one or two occasions, but to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t recognize him on the street if he walked up to me and offered a civil greeting. Nightingale makes it a point not to be seen in the light of day by any of his clients or business associates.”
Anthony looked intrigued. “How does he make his, uh, arrangements?”
“He works only at night and he’s careful to stay in the shadows. Uses a couple of street lads to deliver his messages.” Jack rolled his brandy glass between his wide palms. “From what little I’ve seen of him, I can tell you that he’s a small man. Judging from the sound of his voice, I’d say he’s not young. But not old and frail either. Caught a glimpse of him moving off down a foggy lane once. He’s got an odd way of walking.”
“How is that?” Tobias asked.
“A sort of a twist and a slide to his gait, if you know what I mean. I’ll wager he suffered an unfortunate accident at one time or another and the bones never healed properly.”
“An accident of that sort would not be surprising, given his line of work,” Tobias said. “Probably ran afoul of a dissatisfied client.”
“Aye.”
Anthony glanced at Tobias, as if asking permission to put forth a notion of his own.
“What is it?” Tobias asked.
“It merely occurred to me that mayhap Mr. Nightingale effects a severe limp as a part of his disguise.”
Tobias chuckled. “An excellent point. It is, indeed, a distinct possibility.”
Jack glanced at Tobias and closed one eye in a knowing wink. “I’d say your new assistant has a knack for the trade.”
“I’ve been afraid of that,” Tobias said.
Anthony smiled, clearly pleased with himself.
Jack turned back to Tobias. “So, then, ye’ve taken on another case with your occasional partner, eh?”
“Our client claims that his wife was murdered by whoever convinced her to steal the antiquity,” Tobias said neutrally.
“Ah, yes, the mesmerist’s wife.”
Anthony straightened. “You’ve heard about the affair?”
“Aye.” Jack took a swallow of brandy. “Sooner or later that sort of news generally makes its way to the Gryphon.” He studied Tobias. “You’re searching for a killer again, my friend?”
“So it would seem.”
Anthony glanced at Tobias in surprise. “What do you mean by that? There is no question but that Mrs. Hudson was murdered.”
“The lady is dead, all right,” Tobias said. “But I am not at all certain that her killer is unknown to us.”
“I don’t understand,” Anthony said.
“The lady had arranged a meeting with her lover the night she died,” Tobias said patiently. “Her husband was aware of the affair and he admits he knew about the rendezvous. He attended a demonstration of mesmerism that night. The lady was later found strangled. Those are the only real facts we have at this point.”
Anthony was still baffled but Jack nodded, comprehension plain on his scarred features.
“You think Hudson followed her to the rendezvous and killed her in a jealous rage,” he said.
Tobias shrugged. “I think that is the most likely explanation of events, yes.”